


Fair Winds and Following Seas

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age of Sail, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:39:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Robert Singer of the U.S.S South Dakota is in trouble. And he’s desperate enough to make a deal with the devil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Captain Robert Singer of the good ship U.S.S. South Dakota wasn’t used to dreaming- he slept too deeply and for far too short a time on the open sea to ever dream, much less remember his dreams. This time however, he remembered flashes of short dark hair, the taste of aged whiskey, and the swish of a long woolen coat. A name. It was carved into his mind as though by magic: ‘Crowley’. He could taste the smoke and fire as he rolled the name around in his mind. 

He knew why he was dreaming of the name of course. He’d heard stories that Crowley was a demon, one who could be summoned by his name. Saying his name out loud three times, with a need in your heart and the willingness to pay for it. That Crowley was a dealer of human souls. Bobby Singer was not a captain who usually bought into that sort of nonsense- but. 

They’d been becalmed for a month now- morale was lower than it had ever been, water and grog rations were running out, and the crew were fighting amongst themselves: much longer and they’d decide someone was a Jonah, or they’d start seeing mermaids where the dolphins leapt, or rolling plains instead of the sea’s mirror flat surface. Some he’d lose to suicides- what was the point of going on, only to die of hunger or thirst or the thrice accursed heat. That there was no point in hoisting the sails when they hadn’t felt a breath of wind in so long. 

So. 

Captain Singer was desperate. Desperate enough to summon a demon he didn’t believe in, to make a deal for a soul he didn’t think he had, for the sake of his men, those he considered his sons, his boys. 

It was shortly after four in the morning, when Captain Singer woke up after a dream still seeing the curl of a smirk under pure black eyes, that he whispered “Crowley” into the darkness of his cabin. “Crowley” he says again. And before his better senses could tell him that this is stupid, and god help him if the men ever found out, nevermind that he was in his own cabin in the middle of the night, he says again: “Crowley.”

He caught his breath and waited. It took a minute before he started cursing himself for being so stupid, for even thinking that such nonsense could be real- which is of course when he heads a voice.

“You called, pet?”

The man, demon, that had haunted the edges of his dreams was standing before him, on the other side of his small cabin, seeming to fill the the room with darkness, sucking in and muting the light from the small lantern Bobby has hanging from the wall. 

“You have a deal in mind, darling?” the demon drawls in an accent that’s as upper class English as accents get. He’s hear the Irish lads among the crew mimicking it often enough to know it was an affectation, a sign he wasn’t as high and noble as he pretended to be. Knowing that this all powerful demon could be insecure about an accent, as insecure as humans reassured him. 

“My ship- she’s been stuck in the sea’s deserts, the wind abandoned us weeks ago. I want a good strong wind and a safe journey, for my ship and crew and me to the docks in Rio. And…” Bobby hesitated, but finds his courage. “And I’m willing to sell my soul for it.”

“What an altruistic captain. Sure you don’t want to be a little more ambitious there? You are selling your immortal soul.”

“S’not like I can ask for-“ 

The demon cuts him off. “You can deal for anything you want, limited only my your imagination and what you can reasonably fit into one sentence.”

“So, if I asked for speedy, safe, and profitable travels with a good crew, and a willin’ body warmin’ my bed for the rest of my life?”

“Now we’re talking. Knew you had it in you. I always did like the creative ones. ‘Course, the rest of your life is going to be ten years, unless you get very lucky. Izzat a problem?”

“The rest of my life is gonna be a week or two if I don’t.” Bobby shrugs. “And besides, the sea’s the only love I ever had. Ten years of life is longer than I’d imagined I’d get with a mistress like that.” 

“Then the deal is acceptible?”

“All you want is my soul, ten years from now?”

Crowley nodded slightly.

“Yes. Err. Is it going to hurt when you take it?”

“Not if I do it right.” Crowley’s smile was smug and nearly predatory. “Minor deals are usually sealed with a kiss, but this one… I’m going to have to monitor you, every time you’re at sea, not to mention the ocean isn’t precisely my forte. So. Something a little more potent for my troubles, I think.”

“Y’wanna run that by me again?”

“Simple. You owe me. I don’t find you unattractive, and it’s been awhile- besides, you did ask for body to warm your bed at nights. This is a bit more discreet than having a whore aboard.

“…” Bobby hadn’t ever been the sort of man to indulge in the use of cabin boys, or any of the other encounters between men who shared a small ship and didn’t see women for months at a time. It’d been more that he had more to lose than most of the men than a lack of need- it’d been ten years since his wife had died. He’d had his share of nights in brothels, but those nights were too rare. Even in the winter when he couldn’t be with his wooden and watery mistresses, he hadn’t spent much time with the women in his home port of Boston. He supposed he didn’t have much of a choice- and if he was already going to hell, committing the sin of sodomy, with a demon, couldn’t make it much worse. “So, how do you want to do this?” 

“Knew you’d see it my way.” The demon’s eyes flicked golden momentarily and the rough linens on Bobby’s heavy, suspended captain’s bed turned into the finest Egyptian cotton- finely woven and the most comfortable thing Bobby’d ever felt. 

“I want to fuck you from behind, take you like a dog takes a bitch; I want to listen to you whimper half in pleasure half in pain.” Crowley stalked closer to the bed, and Bobby felt the heat building in his cock, his sleeping pants seeming too small as he hardened at the filthy talk.

“I want to hear the slap of my balls against your ass as I thrust in all the way. I want to own you. I’m going to take my pleasure from you, let you moan and beg until I feel like giving you yours.” 

The demon reached out to rub Bobby’s hardening shaft through his pants, leaning into Bobby so he can feel the demon’s hot breath on his neck. 

“I want you on edge and desperate, until I deign to suck your cock, swallow your essence, and hear you scream so loud your precious boys will hear it over the raging storm clouds racing in right now.”

Gripping the demon’s shirt, Bobby yanked the demon on top of him, doubts forgotten. Crowley grinned and just keeps talking, stroking the captain harder and faster.

“I want to infect you with my inhumanity, to steal your mortality. I want you to come harder than you’ve ever come before. Want you to be rocking back into me in time to the rocking of the ship on the waves.” 

Crowley’s hands reached in, undoing the buttons of Bobby’s pants, cool fingers grasped and tugging at hot flesh. Bobby gasped at the cold, but his blood pulsed more insistently, pleasure building at the root of him. 

“Captain. Robert. Singer. I want your soul to be halfway detached by the debaucherous pleasure of our coupling. I want you in every way imaginable.” Crowley paused. “But I think this will do for now.” He snapped his fingers, disappearing.

It took a second, because he’s still reeling from the demon’s sheer presence, from the way words could arouse him, for Bobby to realize he came in his pants like a child. That the weight of the demon’s speech, speaking the filthiest words, offering the most tempting of temptations had given him a quicker release than the cunt of any woman. When his crew came to to tell him the wonderful news- a storm was rolling in, and with it, the perfect wind to steer them around Cape Horn and up the coast of Brazil into Rio de Janeiro, Bobby was grateful the door the to his cabin mysteriously jammed. He needed to change. As he made his way up to the deck, he hummed absently under his breath. He was looking forward to the demon’s next visit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A storm hits, and the tallship U.S.S. South Dakota needs a bit of demonic help to survive.

Of course, the next time Crowley visited was during a hurricane. The ship’s rigging was lashing out, the sails were flapping like a gull’s wings, the timbers of the ship were creaking and groaning, as though they were about to break apart. 

Captain Singer was clutching the wheel, desperately trying to hold to some sort of course in the powerful storm. He nearly lost control of the wheel when a pair of warm and dry hands clasped his soaking, frozen pair and held firm, helping him keep control of the ship. His back feels warm, and when he turns to look, it was Crowley, in an oiled rainslicker, as black as the woolen coat he’d been in when Bobby had first seen him. It had a hood that hid his face, and Bobby knew none of the crew would ever be able to see the face under the hood. 

Throughout the ship, the crew was joined and aided by men they didn’t recognize; the newcomers shied from the ship’s chaplain, but no one noticed- the need for the hands was too great. Nearly a full day of the hurricane’s winds had passed before Bobby realized that while he’d been ordering his exhausted crew to sleep in shifts, he himself hadn’t needed to sleep since the beginning of the storm. 

“What magic is this?!” He roared over the storm. Crowley was standing behind him, incanting into the wind- shaping and changing it as best he could. 

Crowley glanced down at him briefly, and Bobby could feel the surge in the wind’s power. The demon returns to his chanting.

‘A ship needs her captain,’ he heard whispered in his mind. ‘And so does her crew- even my boys won’t see the ship through the storm without your guidance. The crew will sleep peacefully and wake rested, while you, my darling, dashing captain, will be borrowing energy from me until this is all over. Your crew will get another fine story to tell of their daring, loyal captain who didn’t leave his post until the hurricane was over. Knowing /humans/, they’ll imagine you’ve a guardian angel.’ The way the words feel in his mind mirrors Crowley’s disgusted expression. Bobby wanted to ask, but just shouted for the new shift of deckhands to get to work- to tie themselves to safety lines so they wouldn’t be washed overboard. 

One last whisper, a caress in his head. ‘Fear not- your ship will ne’er sink, so long as I still have your deal, tucked safely in my collection.’

—————

The worst of the storm passed in a day or two, and Bobby felt comfortable leaving the helm to his first and second mates- Dean and Sam Winchester. He staggered down the steps to his cabin, where the exhaustion hits him all at once. If it weren’t for Crowley, who stepped out of the dark depths of his room, Bobby would have fallen to the floor- and slept there until someone came to wake him up. Crowley, when Bobby passed out asleep on his shoulder, deftly maneuvered the captain to bed. He stripped the captain of his wet clothes as he considered whether or not to stay.

He’d spent nearly four days using his magic to summon the lower demons, to ease the wind, soothe the waves, keep the captain awake, and most importantly he held the ship together. It couldn’t hurt to spend one night sleeping on Earth. Shedding his wet clothes, Crowley dumped Singer into bed, conjuring a pile of warm blankets and sliding in next to him. Crowley was asleep within minutes, a posessive and proud arm wrapped around the captain’s chest and a fond smile tugging at his sleeping face.


End file.
